Fly Away Angel
by VeritaParlata
Summary: Derek Vinyard seeks absolution for his sins...
1. Part I:

Part I:

I'll never forget the day I met her.

Daisy Sinclair.

She had the face of an angel and a smile that could light up the room. Sitting in that crowded diner for over an hour just watching her is nothing compared to the time I've logged watching her from across the street.

I'd watch the customers go by throughout the day, watch the men flirt with her, or try to at least, but they'd never get anywhere with her. She always gave them a warm smile though. The warmest smile I'd ever seen on anyone.

I hadn't seen a smile like that in years.

Not since my dad died.

Not since my brother died.

I feel a pain in my gut that's reminiscent of someone kicking me or punching me in the stomach, and almost immediately I know it's the feeling of guilt. Guilt over the things I'd done since my father's death. Things that ultimately lead to my brother's death.

That's something Daisy and I have in common. We've both lost brothers.

I killed them both.

My brother didn't die by my hands, hers did, but that's neither here nor there because the ending is always the same. Two young men are dead…and I know it's my fault. I know it and I feel it and it's the worst possible feeling you could ever imagine.

I'd been sitting at the table in the back with a cup of coffee -- gone cold -- that one of the earlier waitresses brought to me. I'd let it sit in front of me as I watched her go about her shift. I'd never seen anyone move with such grace. Watching Daisy do the most trivial things was like watching a ballerina flitter across the stage.

She was far and away the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

And I knew the moment I revealed to her who I was…that warm, gorgeous smile would die. But that was the reason I'd come here after all. The reason I sought her out. There were things I needed to say.

"Would you like a refill?" I hear from someone standing in front of me and I look up into Daisy's green eyes, her smile not as wide but just as friendly as always, and I'm awestruck. Completely at a loss for words. I nod and hand her the cup. "You've been nursing this for a while. I can tell."

I give her a little smile as I stare at her through my dark sunglasses. "Oh, yeah? How?"

"I've been watching."

Somehow I doubt that. She's had far too many customers in her face from what little time I've been in here to notice one guy all the way in the back; plus, she would have noticed me watching her.

She doesn't know who I am and part of me is thankful for that. Part of me is relieved she's not screaming at the top of her lungs what a murderer I am and slapping my face. And yet, at the same time, it makes what I'm about to say that much harder.

"Have we met before?" She asked, breaking into my thoughts of her. How do I do this? How do I cause her more pain? She set the now refilled mug on the table and the thud echoes so loudly in my ears that it's the only sound I hear. "I feel like I've seen you before."

"You have," I tell her. I hang my head. Maybe in fear or in shame, I'm not quite sure anymore. All I know is that I have to tell her who I am. I have to make amends for the wrong I've done to her. I have to get absolution from one of the only people left alive to give it to me…I just pray my sins aren't too great. "We've never met formally or anything, but you've seen me."

I raised my head to see her staring at me with a look of confusion. The corners of her mouth are twitched up in a mixture of intrigue, amusement and anticipation, and again I realize she's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen.

And I love her.

I love her for her strength and her courage. Her ability to make every new day just that. A new day to make mistakes and take chances and to live life. A new day to forget the hate and to smile in the face of adversity.

Slowly, my hand reaches up and I remove my shades. I'm staring at her and she back at me when the smile dies from her lips, replaced by a bitter frown and the light that always shines so brightly in her green eyes dims and the look of angered rage, albeit calm, takes hold.

She does know who I am.

And she hates me.

I laugh bitterly on the inside, wouldn't dare crack a smile in front of her now. You may hate me, Daisy, but you can't possibly hate me more than I hate myself.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words don't come. I'm seared by the look she's giving me, and though I know it's less than what I deserve after what I've done, it still hurts.

"I'm Derek--"

"Vinyard," she interrupted abruptly, the pain in her voice just as clear as the anger in her eyes. "I know who you are." A cold, crooked, bitter smile crosses her lips. The coldest smile I'd ever seen. "You're the one who killed my brother."

Tears began to form as she stared at me for a moment longer, then turned and walked away; not daring or willing to let me see her shed one single tear. And then the pain in my gut starts all over again.

She disappeared into the back for a few minutes before coming back out and taking her usual place behind the counter. Where she stood stoically for the rest of the night without ever glancing at me again.

It was stupid to see her that way. I was dumb, an idiot, a fucking fool for thinking what I had in mind was a good plan. But I needed absolution. I needed her forgiveness more than anything else.

Maybe then I could move on with my life.

Learn how to smile again without feeling like I'm fucking dying inside.

Maybe then I could learn to forgive myself.

I'll never forget the day I met her.

Daisy Sinclair.

She had the face of an angel…

…with a smile that could light up the room.

* * *


	2. Part II:

Part II:

_The crowded courtroom was stifling hot. Not just with the summer heat, but with the tempers flaring from all inside. _

_Derek sat at the defense table with a petulant scowl on his face. His mother, brother and younger sisters were seated in the chairs directly behind him. Behind them was Stacy – his girlfriend - and his friend Seth Ryan. Seated somewhere in the far back watching the entire thing with a bemused smile was Cameron Alexander._

_The judge stared down at Derek with a scowl of his own and Derek tried to avoid his gaze. He tried to avoid the looks from everyone in the galley of the court. He could feel his mother's saddened eyes staring at his back intently and still he hadn't turned to face her. He just couldn't take seeing the tears in her eyes. No matter how bad-assed he claimed to be, he hated to see his mother in tears. Hated more knowing he put them there._

_Out the corner of his eye, Derek saw movement at the other table. Despite his best efforts to not have any eye contact with anyone present in the courtroom, he looked over and saw the prosecuting attorney speaking with a young black woman. She wore dark blue and her hair tied up in a ponytail. The lines in her face made her look tired and worn down, but she was still young looking. Derek guessed her to be around his age or so. She held herself together in such a manner that made him think she was made of steel._

_When she turned to return to her seat, her eyes landed on Derek briefly and caught him watching her. To his surprise, she didn't sneer at him. The coldness of her green eyes burned him however and he knew then that he'd never forget her face…and that she'd never forget his._

Standing outside the apartment door I share now with my mother and two younger sisters, I smoked my third cigarette of the day. My mother has lung cancer and for her, I'm trying to quit. I've cut back considerably, too…but tonight…seeing Daisy…I need the sweet poison to ease the sting that accompanied my thoughts of her.

That first time I saw her in court had been the only time I'd seen her in years. I'd expected her to come see me in prison, demanding answers the way her mother had…or rather, I'd hoped. I'd hoped that she'd come see me at first so I could be righteous and indignant. So that I could tell her that he brother got exactly what he deserved. It was always easier to be abusive and racist to the younger generations of blacks because they felt they had more to prove. The older ones had lived through it and anything I said to them wouldn't have been anything they hadn't heard before.

Yet, as the days went by, turning into weeks and months, I wanted Daisy to come and see me for entirely different reasons. I'd never been able to get her face that day in court out of my head. I knew then that she was different. Even in the midst of a murder trial – her brother's murder trial – when her whole family was crying their eyes out, screaming into the microphones of the press how much they hated me and people who thought like me, Daisy remained constantly in control of herself. If she did hate me, or feel the way her family did, she expressed it in private.

As I made enemies in prison of the type of men I admired, of the type of man I claimed to be…and surprisingly became closer to a black inmate, I found myself wanting to see Daisy just so I could stay on the right path. So she could look at me again as she did that day in court and remind me of the man I never wanted to be again.

I still needed that I guess. This is why I went to see her at the diner in the first place.

I still need to be reminded of the pain I caused…even though I feel it every time I walk into my bedroom. I see Danny's stuff and I feel it in my gut. I feel it every time I look at my mother and realized that I'm the reason her son is no longer alive. I feel it every time I look at my kid sisters growing up in poverty when we had a home…and realizing I'm the reason it was taken away.

I _see_ the pain I've caused…every time I look in the mirror.

"Der?" a soft voice called to me and I turn my head to see my mother poking her head out the door. Her blonde hair was turning white. The bag under her eyes caused by stress and a lack of sleep made her look older. Her skin was paler than it was yesterday and it scares the hell out of me watching her fall apart.

"Ma," I whispered hoarsely and threw away my lit cigarette. "I thought you and the girls were sleeping," I say and turn to look through the darkened window as if I could see the girls in their room asleep.

Stepping out into the night air, my mother pulled the door closed behind her softly. She closed her robe and hugged herself tightly. There was a bit of a chill in the night air and I thought for a moment about asking her to go back inside, but I could sense there was something on her mind. There was something she needed to say.

"I was waiting up for you," she told me then turned to look at me with saddened eyes. Whatever she had to say, she felt would hurt me. Silence fell between us for a moment and the only sound heard was our collective breathing. Hers more labored than mine. "Cameron called," she said finally, staring up at me, waiting for a reaction in my face.

My jaw clenched involuntarily_. Fucking Cameron_. The anger swelled inside of me, rising to a fever pitch, but you would have never been able to tell by looking at me. I kept my expression as calm as I could. I didn't want to upset her.

"What'd he want this time?"

She sighed a bit. "He said he wanted to offer his condolences for Danny," There was a tremble in her voice and I didn't like it. I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight to my side. It amazed and frightened me how fragile she felt in my arms. "Said he'd heard about my cancer and asked if there was ever anything we needed from him to not hesitate to ask."

Fucking bastard. I should have killed him when I had the chance.

"At least they're not still after you," she said as she leaned her head against my chest. She clutched her own and sighed again. "I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful Cameron called Seth off."

So was I, but I would never let him know that. I refused to play his fucking game again. "We don't owe him anything," I told her. "Dr. Sweeney put in a good word for me at the university library and they've offered me the night-watchman shift," I told her. Finally able to bring some good news into her life. "I'm not going to carry a gun or anything, but…it's a better paycheck." Though I felt nervous about leaving them here alone at night. Cameron may have called Seth off, but that didn't mean Seth would listen for long.

"That's great, Der," she beamed up at me. A brighter smile on her face than I'd seen in a long time. "So why do you look so sad?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I didn't know if I wanted to answer that.

Another long moment of silence passed between us.

"Do you forgive me?" I asked finally; bracing myself for the inevitable sting of her answer.

"Forgive you for what, honey?" she asked me in that 'worried mother' tone.

I sighed. "For everything. Ruining our family and the life we had. For Danny's--"

Her hand over my mouth stopped my words. Her eyes closed briefly, behind them no doubt the image of Danny's casket being lowered into the ground.

"You broke my heart," she whispered to me as she opened her eyes. Moving to stand in front of me, she cupped my face in her hands and forced me to look into her eyes. "After your father died…you became someone I didn't even know…let be my own son. You were hateful and…" she shook her head as tears sprang to her eyes. "…but you changed. Prison…it changed you…for the better. You got Danny back on the right path."

"It was too late," I said hoarsely as a tear slipped down my cheek.

"You still did it," she reaffirmed. "You take care of me and your sisters. We depend on you. Yes, I forgave you, honey. I'm your mother, I'll always love you."

She leaned up and kissed my cheek and hugged me tightly.

I wanted to believe her.

Moving away from me, she headed for the door. I could feel her eyes at my back again as I did that day in court. Only this time instead of sad tears…her tears were full of relief.

She opened the door and I heard her pause in the doorway. I turned back and looked at her and she looked at me with a warm smile.

"You just need to find a way to forgive yourself, honey."

I went to sleep with my mother's words in my head. I woke with them, headed to my last day of work at the garage with them and found them resounding loudly again as I stood across the street from the diner.

I did need to find a way to forgive myself.

My mother was right about that. And now that I knew I had her forgiveness, it gave me the courage to seek someone else's.

I did need to find a way to forgive myself…and it started with seeing Daisy again.

* * *


	3. Part III:

Part III:

_Standing at his father and brother's grave, Derek felt as if his heart would succumb with grief. It beat with an extraordinary pace when his hands reached out to touch the dual headstone and tears spilled down his cheeks. How many times had he been here? How many times had he shed these tears and felt this grief? _

_How many times would he ask the cold stone for forgiveness... knowing he would receive none..._

I stood across the street from the diner and waited. It was nearly three-thirty in the afternoon and Daisy hadn't started her shift yet. Standing there, I wondered what would happen. I was certain things would not go the way I intended. Nothing was ever that simple. We wouldn't hold hands and talk. She might not even want to hear what I have to say. At any rate, I had to say it. I had to ask for forgiveness... even if she denied me.

A few minutes later, I saw Daisy turn the corner and head towards the diner. _Now or never_, I told myself and jogged across the street to meet her.

My heart was in my chest as I reached out to touch her. "Daisy?"

She recoiled instantly. Recognizing me just as she'd done yesterday had wiped the light from her eyes. "What do you want?" she asked and tried to move around me to get into the door.

I stepped out of her way, showing I meant her no harm or disrespect. "I just want to talk."

Her eyebrow raised in a skeptical fashion. _At least she acknowledged me_, I told myself. That was far more than I deserved. "Talk?" she asked, her voice somewhere between disbelief and disdain. "What could you possibly have to say to me that you think I want to hear?"

She seemed genuinely intrigued despite the sarcasm and I again had to hide my little smirk. I started to tell her but before I could get any words out, I was being dropped to the ground with my hands being held behind my back in excruciating pain.

"What the fuck are you doing, eh?" the man who had me pinned to the ground asked. "Is this guy bothering you, Dais? I've seen him around here a lot and he's always staring at you. This the one who upset you yesterday?"

"It's alright, Hector," Daisy told him. His big, fat knee in my back was adding more pain but I didn't cry out. Any movement on my part at all could probably get me hurt or thrown back in jail. "Let him go."

Hector did as Daisy asked and let me go. I stood up and dusted myself off, slyly looking at the behemoth that had ambushed me. He had at least a hundred pounds on me and I felt every single one of them. He gave me the dirtiest look and I realized that I knew him. I'd robbed and destroyed his store back when I was a different man. He, obviously, hadn't forgotten me.

"It's okay, Hector," Daisy said to him, obviously trying to get him to relax. For a split second, I thought she might be doing that for my benefit as well.

Hector went back inside after warning me that he was watching and at the first sign of distress he would break my arm in three places. I conceded and said nothing.

Once alone again, Daisy stared at me with those intense green eyes again. She was waiting for me to say my piece. While elated that I was being given the chance, I didn't want to do it out here on the street. She deserved more respect than that.

"Would you feel more comfortable inside?" I asked.

She remained silent, but walked inside. Hector noticed and she nodded to him, keeping him at bay. In fact, everyone behind the counter watched me and even the patrons who'd seen Hector toss me to the ground. Daisy said nothing. Just led me to the back of the diner to a quiet and nearly secluded booth that patrons were not allowed to use. She dropped her coat and purse behind the edge of the counter and sat in the booth. I sat across from her more nervous than I had ever been in my entire life.

"Thank you," I said. "For stopping me from being skinned alive." I let a little smile show, but her expression did not change.

She was silent for a moment before saying, "I stopped Hector from beating you to pulp because, though I can't understand why, I truly do want to hear what you have to say. But more than that, I want to ask you a question. But in no way, was I doing it to be nice."

"Okay," I swallowed hard. "What... question?" I asked stupidly. I already knew the question. It was one I asked myself every single day.

"Why did you kill my brother?"

I sighed sadly... I was right.

"I need to know. I need to know why you killed him."


End file.
